


For Life

by beedekka



Category: Professional Wrestling, Ring of Honor
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mind Control, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 13:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13055040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beedekka/pseuds/beedekka
Summary: In the run up to the 15th Anniversary 'Winner Take All' show, Kaz's loyalty to his partner is put to the test by Adam Cole's mind games and the dark secrets at the heart of the Bullet Club.





	For Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RedLeaderfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedLeaderfic/gifts).



_“Be careful.  Keep your cool.  I’ll see you on the other side.  Try not to completely forget…”_

 

“Frankie.”

Kaz blinked.   _Forget what?_

“Pay attention.”

“Huh?”

Adam laughed and smacked him jovially on the shoulder.  “Our esteemed friend offered you another drink.  You want?”

Kaz stared stupidly at the empty glass in his hand; the heavy base felt warm against his fingers, like he’d been holding it for a while.

Adam raised an eyebrow, expectantly.

“Yeah, okay.”  They’d been toasting – that was it.  Something told him it would’ve been wrong to refuse a top-up now.

Hangman Page reached forward and filled a neat finger of bourbon into the tumbler before retreating to lean on a nearby pillar, placing the bottle carefully on the tiles beside his booted feet.  Adam grinned and touched the side of his can of Monster to the rim of Kaz’s glass.  “Cheers, brother.”

Kaz nodded and took a short sip of the whiskey.  That was warm, too; warm and sweet like the bottle had been lying in the sun, even though the Bullet Club locker room was as stark and cold as any other he’d been in up and down the road.  He watched Adam swallow from the can, the movement baring his throat so that he looked almost vulnerable, close up.

They’d fought in the ring many times, but this was the first time Kaz had been in this proximity to Cole outside the confines of a match.  It was interesting to see him when he wasn’t pumped up and swaggering.  Sure, his frame was sharp and strong under his shirt, but the cut of his clothes seemed to emphasise the difference between the two of them – how much broader Kaz knew he was across his shoulders than Adam.   _This is why he needs me_ , Kaz thought.   _It’s why he needs all of us.  He’s never just going to rely on himself alone when his opponent is bigger, more experienced, more determined._

Adam caught his eye and licked his lips as he drew the can from his mouth, and Kaz looked away quickly, self-conscious at being caught watching.

“You like what you see?” Adam murmured.

 _Yeah._  Honestly, yeah, Kaz could see what had got Adam this far, and it was hard to begrudge him using his looks to his advantage.  ‘By any means necessary’ – how many times in this business had that mantra secured a win that never should have been?  Thousands and thousands.

“That’s nice.  Thank you.”

It was quiet enough in the room that it was difficult to believe there were six men currently sharing the space.  Cody was sprawled across the longest of the benches, a study in disinterest with his cigar artfully balanced in an ashtray on his thigh.  It was sending a small curl of smoke into the air around him, acrid and pale.  The Bucks completed the picture, perched in a corner like the spot monkeys they were, eyes intently on the exchange playing out between Kaz and Adam.

Empty Monster cans and Starbucks cups littered the surfaces all around them; far more than seemed reasonable for the number of people and the amount of time they’d been using this locker room, but Kaz wasn’t about to judge.  If Bullet Club ran on corporate caffeine, well, that was hardly a surprise in this industry.

“I like to get a tall latte, French vanilla,” Adam told him with a wink.

There was a keen silence as everyone seemed to be watching his reaction and Kaz wasn’t sure why.  Even Cody had tuned in now, his ice blue gaze discomfiting enough that Kaz definitely preferred when his attention had been absorbed with himself.

Adam was giving him that smile again, and Kaz studied it for a moment.  He had perfect teeth, bright and clean, and his eyes crinkled at the corners in that ‘handsome guy’ way that always set off a sharp jaw well.  Kaz wondered what his eyes would look like with kohl around them, and was startled when Adam suddenly laughed out loud.

“What?”

Adam bit his lip, like he was trying not to laugh more, and Kaz shook his head in annoyance.

“Sorry, sorry.  It’s me, not you,” Adam said quickly.  “You’ll laugh about it later, Frankie, trust me.  Well, actually maybe you shouldn’t.  That one’s your call.”

“Adam.”  Cody’s tone sounded like a warning.

“Lighten up, Cody.  I know what I’m doing.  Hey, Frankie, look at me again.”

Adam was studying _him_ now, like he was searching for something, and for a split-second Kaz felt an odd twinge right between his pecs, like a tiny barb being yanked through his chest.  He flinched with it, curling his free hand into a fist at his side.  That felt… important, somehow.

“Okay, here we go!”  Adam reached up and around to the back of his head, twisting his hair down from the topknot it was in and shaking it out to hang loose over his shoulders.  Behind him, Kaz saw Page’s fingers twitch minutely against the rope he always carried.

“You can touch it if you want,” Adam whispered.  He must have read the confusion on Kaz’s face, because he added, “That’s _if_ you want.  Because nobody does anything for me that they don’t already want to do; you get that, don’t you, Frankie?  I want you to get that.  The kind people in the Cracker Barrel waive the check because they want to.  And I could leave my wallet behind in the car and still drown in French vanilla because people just _want_ to buy my coffee order for me.  Do you understand?”

“Yeah, I get it.”  One thing Kaz was certain of was that he was here because he wanted to be; this meeting with Bullet Club was his choice.  He moved to brush one hand carefully around Adam’s jawline to the back of his neck, eyes lingering on that delicate throat he’d been admiring earlier on, before slipping his fingers higher to cradle the base of Adam’s skull.  His hair was damp, like it had been tied up when it was still wet from the shower, and oily with some kind of conditioner.  Kaz wasn’t sure why he’d been curious about what it would feel like in the first place, but he was satisfied now that he knew.  When he drew back, Adam’s eyes were closed, like he was concentrating on the feeling too, and he seemed surprised when Kaz didn’t move to do anything more.

“That’s enough?”

One of the Bucks snickered and Kaz could see the warning glance Adam threw them in the mirror on the wall behind them.  It was in sharp contrast to the smile that was back on his face by the time he turned to face him again.  “Then Frankie, listen carefully.  Now you’re in Bullet Club, you’re going to protect me because you want to; protect this hair, this throat, this face, and we’ll protect you in return, understand?  Because there’s nothing you cannot do when you’re one of us, and you’ll come to see that soon.  All you have to do is help me in the title match with Daniels.  It’s very simple: I have to win; I will not lose.”

 _Yeah._  That was what he was here to arrange.

“Good.  Now finish your drink and Too Sweet me, brother.”  Adam put up his hand, and Kaz automatically met it as he slugged down the last of the Jack.

“You’d better pick yourself a new drink, by the way, ‘cause Bullet Club are going to make certain we’ve seen the last of Daniels, right?”

“Right,” Kaz laughed.

“See, you’re getting my humour now!”  Adam grinned, and the Bucks smirked in stereo, hopping out of the corner to throw up their own Too Sweets while Page kicked the bourbon bottle over into the drain.

“Are you going to hang out with us tonight?” Cody asked him.

“Discretion assured, of course,” Adam added.

It was tempting, but Kaz had the distinct sense that he was supposed to be doing something else after this, and between the drink, the cigar smoke, and the strange tension buzzing in the room, he was honestly beginning to feel pretty ill all of a sudden.

“Uh, actually I’m not feeling too good, so maybe we can take a rain check on that one.”

“You’re feeling weird?  Oh, well, that’s too bad.”  Adam squeezed his arm.  “But it’ll pass quickly, trust me; sleep it off and then call me in the morning.  Where's your phone?”

He handed it over and Adam put his number in almost without looking, before tucking it back into Kaz's hip pocket with a friendly little pat.  “Call me, remember.  You got it?”

Kaz nodded and set the empty glass down, going through another round of Too Sweets with the Bucks before he could finally stumble out into the corridor and make his way outside to the parking lot for some fresh air.

 

Chris swooped on him before he even had a chance to sag against the wall by the service doors.

“Hey, hey, hey, Frankie, it’s me.  Are you okay?”

“Chris…”  Kaz was spectacularly thankful to see his partner, and to feel the genuine concern radiating out of him as Chris took in his shaky state.  Kaz was really starting to question how much he’d drunk in there, because he sure as hell shouldn’t have felt this badly off on two or three shots of Jack.

“They left you like this?  What the fuck kind of brotherhood are they supposed to be?” Chris asked incredulously.  “Dammit, I was worried he’d mess you up somehow.  Can you walk steady or do you want me to take some of your weight?”

“Man, I feel like shit,” Kaz mumbled.

“That’s Cole; that’s his shit all over you,” Chris murmured, hooking him under the arm and pulling him firmly away from the building.  “Come on, I want to get us gone from here before they come out.”

“My chest really hurts.”

“Your chest?” Chris questioned, bracing to keep their balance as Kaz swayed a little in his grip.

“My head too,” Kaz gritted out.  “Feels like after a bad match.”  They were at the hire car now, and Chris pushed him to lean against it while he opened the door.  The thought of driving was making Kaz's stomach lurch already, and he swore again under his breath.  Why did he feel so awful all of a sudden?

“The hotel isn’t far.  Just hang on in there, buddy.”

Kaz swallowed hard and closed his eyes as Chris helped him into the passenger seat, buckling the belt around him and briefly touching his palm to Kaz's forehead before shutting him in and hurrying around to the driver’s side.

“You’re clammy to touch; do you feel that?” Chris asked him.

Did he?   _Kind of._

As soon as they pulled away the vibration from the engine sent a horrible sensation through his bones, and Kaz felt even more off balance.   _Fuck._  ‘Weird’ was right; he hadn’t felt quite all there the whole time he was in the locker room with the Bullet Club, and whatever had been keeping him together for the duration of the meeting seemed to have entirely deserted him as soon as he was away from them, leaving him achy and too warm inside his skin.  “Chris,” he tried.

“Uh huh?”

Kaz swallowed thickly again.  “I…”

 

***

 

The next thing he was aware of, he was waking up on his back in a quiet room.  It was dimly lit, but instantly familiar to him in the way that all chain hotel bedrooms seemed familiar; the uniform layout of the furniture, the firmness of the mattress, the low whir of the fan – after twenty years on the road those things were easy for him to place.  He could feel Chris close beside him, his weight dipping the bed to create a balance between them that was instantly comforting in its familiarity as well.

“Hey, how are you feeling?”  Chris’s voice was low and cautious, and Kaz wondered how long he’d been watching over him.

“Really tired, and hungover to hell.  What time is it?”

“Early hours.  What do you remember about last night?”

“Meeting those assholes in their locker room.”

“Right, ‘assholes’ is right.”  Chris sounded relieved, like Kaz had passed some sort of test, which was vaguely unsettling in a way he couldn’t pinpoint.

“And drinking with them to celebrate.  The deal is sealed, Chris: I’m Bullet Club’s newest member.”

“Congratulations.”

“Jesus…”  Kaz couldn’t help the tiny shiver as the reality of it hit him.  No matter how deadpan he knew his partner was being, it was incredibly strange to hear Chris saying that.  It was fucking crazy to hear _himself_ say it out loud.  ‘Frankie Kazarian is the newest member of Bullet Club!’  “This whole thing is fucked up.”

“Are you sure they bought it?” Chris asked, and Kaz could see the flicker of worry clear in his eyes as they caught the light coming from around the bathroom door.  “Cole is tricky and he _will_ try and manipulate us right back if he thinks he’s being played.”

“Greed is a powerful blind spot, and he really wants to keep that title; enough that he’s ready to believe I would help him do it in return for getting my hands on some of the shit that they have.”

“He doesn’t want that belt as much as we want to take it off him,” Chris murmured.  “But I’m serious, Frankie.  You came out of there nearly out of your mind.  Are you blanking on anything; was there anything that seemed off to you at all?”

“Just how fucking drunk I was from the whiskey.  That’s the only thing.  So maybe he roofied me or something, or that creepy bastard Page did.”

“I’m going to say right now that you scared me to death passing out in the car.”

Okay, Kaz didn’t remember that.  “Did you carry me in here?”

Chris nodded.  “Luckily no one was around.  It was just a card swipe check in.  Does your chest still hurt?”

“It feels hot.”  Kaz slid his hand up under his t-shirt and felt the skin over the top of his breastbone; it was tender where he stretched his fingers over it.  “Fuck.   _Why?_ ”

“I don’t know.”  Chris bit his lip, and Kaz could tell his concern was deepening.  “I thought Cole’s thing was mind games – if he was trying to do some sort of shit to you, that’s where he’d be focussed.  Maybe there’s something else he can do we weren’t aware of, or maybe it’s one of the others.”

That wasn’t exactly pleasant to think about.  They both knew going into this that there were potential unknowns, but Kaz had been determined to push their caution to the side.  What mattered was the outcome: Chris with the World Championship around his waist.  Kaz would do anything to see that happen.

“I’m going to call AJ in the morning,” Chris told him.  “He might be able to tell me something more.”

“I’m supposed to call Adam, too.”

“What for?”

Kaz shook his head against the pillow.  “Don’t know.  I guess he’ll want to talk about what I should do at the taping.”

“Your big reveal…” Chris murmured.

 _Yeah._  It made sense that Adam would want Chris to be heading into their title match already knowing he was on his own, so Kaz would have to make his new alliance public knowledge at the television taping.  “Fuck, right now could be the last time we’re together like this until after the Anniversary show.”

“We won’t be apart for long.”

In theory, no, but that didn’t make the realisation that they were actually about to do this any less of an uncomfortable jolt to Kaz’s system.  Later on today he was probably going to end up standing over his partner while the crowd cheered deafeningly for Bullet Club all around them. 

“Frankie,” Chris began, gently.  Kaz’s stomach flipped at how gentle it fucking was, at how he could manage to layer so much calm into his voice when his thoughts must have been heading to the same place Kaz’s were.  “We’re doing what we have to do,” Chris continued.  “We’re making sure that Bullet Club can’t get in the way of my destiny.  And you don’t know how grateful I am that you’re prepared to go along with me on this – you’re doing so much for me by putting yourself in their hands.”

“You’re the one who’s got to take a beatdown in a few hours.”

“That’s the easy part,” Chris laughed.  “Done that hundreds of times in twenty-five years.”

“I know, but I don’t want to be the person dishing it out.”

“You don’t have to be.  Tell Cole you want to let him do it and he’ll leap at the fucking chance.  Any of them will.”

He was right, of course.  It just wasn’t a situation that Kaz could find so easy to separate the matter-of-facts from the matter-of-feelings about.  He rolled over to face Chris more squarely and laid a hand on his arm in the hope it would help him convey what he was going to struggle to put into words.  “Listen, I’ve known you for so long; we’ve been partners so long… even if we’re only pretending for a while, there’s a part of me that can’t help feeling everything like it’s real – a little voice with all the ‘what ifs’ coming out.”  What if this _was_ the last time they were together.  What if something – fuck knows what, but something – happened and he never came back from Bullet Club?

“Ignore that voice,” Chris replied quickly.  “Ignore anything in your head that tells you something to make you doubt us.  ‘Cause I’ve known you for so long as well, and that’s what we’ve got that they haven’t: absolute faith in each other.  Faith that we _earned_.”

Their faces were close, and Kaz could see the intensity in Chris’s gaze.  It was hot and determined, and he hoped Chris was reading him the same way, because Kaz _did_ have that faith – it was true.  They’d always bet on each other, and it hadn’t failed them yet. 

For a few moments they held their position quietly, Kaz belatedly realising that he was stroking Chris’s arm where he’d laid his fingers on it.

“We’ll be okay,” Chris whispered, and Kaz let that thought settle over him as the dawn slowly brightened the room around them.

 

***

 

When he woke again he was alone on the bed and the shower was running behind the bathroom door.  Kaz checked his watch and grimaced at the greasy feeling of the leather strap around his wrist.  Sleeping in his clothes was low on his list of favourite things to do, and the urge to get up and join Chris was enough to push the lingering headache and the dull pain in his chest to the back of his mind.  He was about to lose his shirt when the quick ‘ping’ of a text message pulled his attention to Chris’s phone on the nightstand.  Leaning over, he tapped the screen and read who the sender was.  AJ.

             Got ur message  Call me back wn u see this.  Thinkn abt u and  worried. xx

Kaz frowned.  At least it sounded like he had some sort of information to add to their situation, but since when did AJ still sign off to Chris like that?  As much as he respected the man in the ring, Kaz wasn’t fond of how close – or how tumultuous – his partner’s relationship with the ex-Bullet Club leader had been over the years.

Seeing the message reminded him that Adam was expecting him to call, and he took out his own phone from where it was uncomfortably jammed down in his jeans pocket.  Kaz had to search the contacts to see if Adam had added his number under his first name or ‘Cole’, and he forced himself to suppress the uneasiness he felt over the fact he’d even let Adam take his phone to do that in the first place.

“Kazarian!”  Adam answered quickly and cheerfully.  “How are you, brother?  Feeling okay this morning?”

“Up and at ‘em,” Kaz replied.

“No hangover?  You drank a fuckload last night, man.  Hey, come out for coffee with me; do you want to get some breakfast?”

He didn’t.  What the fuck?  “I can’t just come and hang out with you in public.”

“No?  Why not?  You didn’t tell Daniels you’re breaking up the band, yet?  Frankie, I hope you’re not getting cold feet on me.  That’s not the man I know you are.”

“I… figured it was the kind of thing that needed an audience,” Kaz answered.  Was Adam not expecting to deal Chris a big, showy break-up as part of the preparation for his title defence?  Kaz would have put money on him demanding that, not letting him off with the option to do it quietly and privately.

“It doesn’t matter how you get there, Frankie – just that you’re beside me.  But if you’re waiting for the taping, I can’t say I’m not impressed with your flair for theatre.  You’ll fit right in with the rest of us, huh?  Great – I’m looking forward to it!”

 _Wait_ , Kaz wanted to rewind the conversation and change the fact that it had somehow become his decision that everything would go down in front of the cameras.  “Adam—”

“Hey,” Adam cut him off.  “Did you spend the night with him last night?”

Kaz faltered for a second on what to answer, wrongfooted by the change of direction.  He didn’t suppose it mattered one way or another if Adam knew whether he did or not, but he wasn’t sure if Chris would prefer him to lie.

“Ha!” Adam laughed dirtily.  “I bet he’s in the shower right now, isn’t he?  You are _cold_ , brother.  Well, I hope you gave him a final night to remember.”

Kaz felt his cheeks flare involuntarily, caught between the shame of how close yet how far Adam was with his guess.  Apparently he had a knack for divining answers out of silences, or maybe he could just hear the shower in the background.  “Adam, I have to go.  He’ll be out in a minute.”

“A few more hours and you won’t have to pretend any more, Frankie.”  Adam’s tone was suddenly serious now.  “I can’t wait to see you cut the dead weight away and achieve your true potential.  Do what you have to today at the show, and then we’ll celebrate.  Bullet Club for life, bay-bay.”

Kaz heard the water turn off and cast a fast glance to the bathroom door.  “I’ll see you at the taping; I’ve got to hang up.”

“Later, bro.”  Adam was chuckling when he cut the call, and Kaz could clearly picture those soft crinkles framing his eyes in his amusement.  He fumbled the phone back into his pocket just before Chris came out.

“Hey, you’re awake,” Chris greeted him with a smile.  “You want straight in?  The water’s running hotter than hell in there.”  Chris gestured back into the bathroom, deftly catching the door to hold it open. 

“Yeah.”  Kaz nodded.  “I really need to get out of these clothes.”

“You okay?”

“Fine,” he answered hurriedly.  “Your phone went off a minute ago.”

“Oh, thanks.”

Kaz waited for him to say that it was probably AJ, but Chris just stood there with his hand on the door, so he ducked awkwardly past him and went inside.

It wasn’t until he was in the shower with the scalding water pouring over his skin that he realised there was no reason for him to have hidden his conversation with Adam from Chris, and that he wasn’t really sure why he did.      

 

***

 

Standing backstage, the uncomfortable stiffness of new-shirt cotton against his skin was driving Kaz crazy, the material heavy with dye and scratching over the place where there was still a dull ache in his chest.  The closer Kaz came to the moment he was waiting for, the more nervous he was getting, but the eight-man tag was winding up to a finish and they were all committed now.  He knew it would only be a matter of minutes before Chris made his move, coming off commentary and isolating Adam in the ring.

If he was honest, a small part of him was hoping something would happen to delay their point of no return; for Chris to decide to stay behind the desk for some reason and let Kaz keep his station in the back.  Surely if they thought about it hard enough they would be able to find another way to do this that didn’t involve taking themselves apart…  Hell, when it came to wrestling, Chris was more than capable of winning the title cleanly a hundred times over, and if it weren’t for the fact that the rest of Bullet Club was certain to play as dirty as they could – to work the numbers advantage and pull out every weapon in their arsenal to make sure they stayed on top of any challenge – he would have been able to take Adam down easily.  

However, destiny was insistent and it didn’t care for Kaz’s hesitation.  The monitor beside the curtain was relaying the hardcam footage to the back, and he watched Chris slide into the ring, coming up by Adam’s shoulder to whisper words Kaz knew would be full of dark promises and violent threats.  The next second Chris was sending Adam slamming to the mat with the Angel’s Wings, before retrieving his ‘party favours’ – the scissors and shaver – to brandish in front of his face.  Adam tried to scramble away but Chris deftly swooped him up and down in his Wings again, dragging him back to his feet only to get him over to the corner where he could keep him penned in and helpless.  That was it: Kaz’s cue to run down to ringside and support his brother.  

He was up on the apron and through the ropes practically before he knew it, getting in Adam’s face and taunting him loud.  Kaz could feel the edginess coming off a crowd who were unsure about who to cheer for yet.  He willed them to break out the Fallen Angel chants, but all he could hear was Adam gasping and whimpering like a wounded animal as he struggled to breathe after taking Angel’s Wings so hard.  Adam’s eyes were wide and wet, pleading with Kaz like he couldn’t rein in the fear of being hemmed in and forced down in the corner, and it was far cry from the bravado he usually possessed.  Kaz stared at him for a moment, focussed on the curious novelty of it.  

“Frankie,” Adam groaned out.  “Don’t let him… don’t let him take my hair.”

The canvas bounced with Chris’s movements behind him, and Kaz could tell that he was going for the scissors again even without following the wild flicker of Adam’s eyeline as he tracked him over Kaz’s shoulder.  “Help me,” Adam whined.  “You have to protect me from him.” 

And the stupid thing of it was that he _did_.  There wasn’t another option beyond unzipping his hoodie and turning to reveal the Bullet Club insignia emblazoned across his chest, or to standing firm while Chris ranted and implored him and then physically came at him to try to get to Adam.  Stopping him was what Kaz was in the ring to do, to make this all work.

Angry questions were pouring from Chris’s lips, but Kaz couldn’t let himself risk a single word in response, sure that if he opened his mouth for just one second his emotions would get the better of him and he would blurt out something that wouldn’t make sense.  So instead he bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood, and held his hand up to make the Too Sweet salute that would distract his partner while the Bucks lined up their devastating stereo superkicks behind him.  And when he looked down at Chris lying on the mat, Kaz was almost grateful that they’d left him out cold, because it meant he didn’t have to see the pain and humiliation that would have been reflected in his eyes.

The crowd had firmly picked their chant by now, and the ecstatic cheers for Bullet Club were triggering a strange spike of adrenaline through Kaz’s veins.  Those cheers were for him this time; for what he’d just done, and what he was showing he’d become…  _This is what it’s like to hear everyone in the crowd screaming for you_ , he registered.   _This is what it’s like to see a sea of the shirt you’re wearing mirrored back at you.  This is what it’s like to have that power._ It sent a hot shiver down his spine as he took his position and did what was expected of him, holding up the Too Sweet while Adam crowed over the fallen angel at his feet.

Afterwards, with the cheers still ringing in his ears, Kaz was hustled back to the same locker room he’d been drinking in not twenty-four hours ago, and this time there was none of the quiet tension of the previous visit.  This time, the constant animation that Kaz was so used to seeing in the Bullet Club members was fully present and directed firmly at him.

Adam’s arm was around his shoulders, eyes sparkling with no trace of the fear Kaz had seen there in the corner of that ring, and the Bucks were like dynamos zipping around them both, filming and joking and chewing gum with equal vigour.  Even Cody was engaging with him now, offering wit and wisdom on everything under the sun until Kaz started to feel nearly overwhelmed by all the attention.  It seemed that since he’d made his alliance clear for everyone to see, the maxim that you were never alone in Bullet Club had swung into action with brilliant intensity, and he couldn’t say it wasn’t useful for the distraction it provided from the hollow ache in his chest.

 

***    

 

“Frankie, you’re freaking hilarious, man!  I didn’t realise how much entertainment we’ve been missing out on by only hooking up with you now,” Matt was telling him.  “You’ve got that dry sense of humour that’s going to play so well off the rest of us on Being The Elite.  Hey, what do you want your shirt to look like?  Bass necks instead of AKs for the Heavy Metal Rebel?”

“Yeah, that would be sweet!” Kaz exclaimed. 

“Uh uh.”  Matt shook his head.  “That would be _too_ sweet.”

 _Fuck_ , that wasn’t even funny and Kaz was laughing like a hyena.  He’d lost track of how long they’d been sitting up in Adam’s hotel room, the six of them crammed onto various bits of furniture to watch rushes of the day’s taping that he couldn’t believe Adam had gotten hold of so quickly.  It was incredible how he just asked people for things and received them.

The air was thick with the smell of sugar and cigar smoke as they cracked open can after can of Monster and Cody took his time to fully enjoy an expensive Serie V.  Kaz was wired as hell and feeling kind of sick, but he’d given up worrying about how fucking disorientating the last few hours had become and was just going with it now.  He’d wanted to duck out and check his phone in private, but one or other of the Bucks or Adam was always starting another conversation or offering him something, and Page was sitting right with his back against the door anyway, apparently struggling to get his long legs stretched out comfortably anywhere else.

“Look at that – it was beautiful, man!”  Nick pointed at the television screen, remote in hand as he rewound then replayed the moment they had taken Chris down over and over again.  It was getting easier for Kaz to watch, after however many times, and the pang in his chest he’d felt on first seeing it through the camera’s eye had been slowly eclipsed by the increasing thrum of his heartrate as the caffeine pushed it up.

“Yeah,” Kaz observed.  “I guess it was.”  It was certainly good theatrics, just like Adam had hoped it would be.

Nick nudged his shoulder.  “Hear that reaction?  How much the crowd loved it?  Did you _feel_ it?  That’s what you get, man; that’s what you get every time.”

Adam chimed in with something about the Television Title and getting him a belt so that he could really appreciate the Bullet Club experience.  Kaz was ready to say that he’d won plenty of gold in the past, but Adam held a finger to his lips before he could.  “Singles titles, brother.  That’s what you deserve, and Lord knows you’ve been held back from getting any of those in Ring of Honor.”

That wasn’t exactly true, though; it wasn’t holding back.  It was just that Kaz had _chosen_ to focus on tag-team wrestling for the last few years. 

“But you can be so much more now, Frankie,” Adam continued as Kaz stared at him wordlessly.  “You tore off the fetters today, and you can already feel the difference, can’t you?  Everything’s a little bit brighter, a little bit faster, a little bit louder…  and that’s only going to get stronger.”

Nick nodded animatedly.  “If it’s spinning you out at the moment, that’s normal – don’t even focus on it.  You’ll get over that so fast you won’t even be thinking about it in a few days: it’ll just be _you_ , only way frickin’ cooler.”

 _Okay, but what’s the chest pain all about?_   Kaz wanted to ask, except Adam still had his finger on his lips, warm and somehow not as awkward as it should have been by now.  By the time he withdrew it – giving him a tiny tap on the edge of his jaw as he did so – Kaz didn’t feel like he needed to know any more.

 

***

 

Nick wasn’t wrong.  Over the next few days the weird feeling of being wired one minute and half out-of-it the next gradually dissipated until Kaz had been left with only the chest pain flaring up every so often, and a kind of low-level adrenaline buzz that wouldn’t go away.  It seemed to keep him running hot, accentuating each of his sense perceptions when he was in the ring.  His match at Manhattan Mayhem was the best six-man he’d ever had; he was able to anticipate and feel wherever Cody and Page were around him at all times, and move to be in exactly the right position to hammer Lethal and the Briscoes at every turn.  When he got the pin, the Bullet Club chants were deafening and exhilarating in equal measure, and the others were so happy with him and _for_ him that Kaz couldn’t believe he’d been coasting as part of the Addiction for so long when this faction was right in front of his nose.

The endless whirl of flights and fans and limos and TGI Fridays and hotels and Cracker Barrels and Starbucks and cameras and on and on was all-consuming in its intensity, and Kaz barely had time to stop and think, let alone to take any time for himself.  There always seemed to be another member of Bullet Club with him, bearing out the pack mentality the commentary teams regularly ascribed to them.  It was nice, in a way – it felt tight-knit and conspiratorial, and he had to admit that the perks were really good.  On top of staff at venues and events going out of their way to accommodate their every request, Kaz hadn’t had to drive a single mile himself over the last little while.  Page would hire a huge rental and never seemed to mind that he took the lion’s share of the driving hours, or Adam would splash on a shiny black limousine so that they could arrive at a signing or a private party in style.

He’d been sharing rooms with Adam since the taping in Pittsburgh, and it felt like they’d been doing it for years, not weeks; he was incredibly easy to be around.  Adam had laughed when Kaz told him that - ‘Hey, if you thought anything otherwise I’d be very surprised, Frankie, but that’s sweet of you to say all the same.’

The one thing that was kind of disconcerting was that hardly anyone outside of Bullet Club and Bullet Club fans passed the time of day with him any more.  Kaz had been used to getting regular texts and DMs from various old friends in the business, and they seemed to abruptly stop the minute word got out from the taping about him aligning with the faction.  It must have meant that a lot of he and Daniels’s mutual acquaintances were taking his side in their split.  Kaz couldn’t lie to himself: that hurt a little. 

He poked moodily at his silent phone, lying on the bed next to Adam’s while a baseball game played low in the background and they waited for Page to arrive with the take-out.  Cody was lounging in the desk chair, the only one of them really paying attention to the current inning.  As he thought more about it, it occurred to Kaz that losing the steady stream of back and forth messages he used to exchange with Daniels had left a sizeable gap in his mental ‘check and balance’ system; he hadn’t really realised how much they would snark and remark and talk around all the experiences and information they encountered on a day to day basis, until it was gone.  “It’s strange that he hasn’t even tried to call me or message me since to ask _why_ ,” Kaz muttered.  “I would’ve done, if it had been the other way around.”

“Hmm?”  Adam glanced at him, blinking like he’d been dozing off before Kaz spoke.  “What did you say?”

“Daniels.  It’s been nearly a month now and he hasn’t even tried to talk to me.”   

“Don’t think about him,” Adam replied testily, and Kaz’s senses prickled with the feeling he’d done something wrong.  “Christopher Daniels is not thinking about you, I guarantee – only how he can get his hands on my title belt tomorrow.  Forget about him; you moved on.”

“And he’s probably been busy shacking up with his phenomenal side-piece, anyway,” Cody added, not taking his eyes off the screen.  “I don’t know how you put up with that for so long.”

Kaz stared at him, stunned.  “Did AJ tell you that?” 

“Oh, shit!  Ouch,” Cody exclaimed, turning and covering his mouth with his hand for a second.  “Sorry, we all figured you must have known...”

 _Well, fuck._   Kaz guessed he kind of _did_ , but what a way to find out for sure.  

“See?  Better best forgotten entirely,” Adam said.

Kaz bit his lip and shifted uncomfortably on the bed.  He really needed a moment of space to breathe and to not be in front of two sets of eyeballs while he mentally berated himself for being so blind about what was really happening with his relationship.  “I’m just going to get some fresh air for a couple of minutes,” he told them, rolling off the bed and stepping quickly around Cody.  “I’ll be back before Hangman gets here.”

“You okay?” Adam asked.

“Yeah, fine.  Hungry, that’s all.”

 

It wasn’t until he was outside in the warm Las Vegas evening that he realised he still had his phone in his hand, and he started to toy with the contacts list, scrolling up and down through the names until he’d come back to the entry for ‘CD’ for the third or fourth time.  Impulsively, Kaz pressed to call, and Daniels answered before he had time to think better of it.

“Frankie, is that you?”

Who else would it be on this number?  “Yeah, it’s me.” 

“Are you okay?!”  And apparently everyone wanted to ask him that at the moment.

“Is that all you want to know?”

“For starters, yes, I really need to know that you’re okay.  Jesus, Kaz.  AJ told me abo—”

 _AJ._   “You were speaking to AJ,” Kaz cut him off flatly.  Of course he was.

“Yes, and I’m fucking worried as hell, Frankie.  I’ve been messaging you, trying to call you; I’ve been trying everything to get to you without them knowing, but up until right now you’ve been completely blanking me.  Oh god, you’re fucking scaring me.  Where are you?”

“Outside the hotel.  I needed some fresh air.”

“Are any of them near you?  No, wait.  Just tell me the street address and I’ll come and meet you.  Walk away from the hotel, Frankie.  Just start walking and stay on the phone with me.  Find a bar or a casino and tell me what it’s called.”

Kaz could hear Daniels moving as he was talking; the rustling of his collar against the phone like he was balancing it by his neck, a door slamming.  Something about the urgency in his tone was connecting with a bundle of confused memories at the back of Kaz’s mind, but he couldn’t pin down what they were and what it meant.  He had begun walking though, startled into action by the conviction in Daniels’s command. 

“Tell me where you’re headed,” Daniels repeated.  The sound of an elevator announcement came faintly over the line: ‘You are on the second floor.  Going down.’  “Come on, talk to me, Frankie; where are you now?”

Kaz looked around beside the hotel.  “There’s a Starbucks here.”

“Okay, good.  That’s good.  Go in there for a minute.  Get off the street.”

“Wh—  why am I doing this?”  Kaz felt like he was missing half the information that was making this make sense to Daniels, and he didn’t know what was so important about getting away from his friends in the hotel. 

“Cole got to you.  Fuck, does that mean anything to you – me saying that?”

_…No._

“I don’t know what he did, Frankie.  I’m damn certain _you_ don’t, but you have to get away from him and clear your head.”

“I’m at the Starbucks,” Kaz told him.  It was a long-hours branch, with plenty of people in there even though it was late.  Kaz was wearing a Bullet Club shirt and he realised that it was probably about to get him recognised, which sent a little frisson of heat to the centre of his chest.  He didn’t know if attention on him was a good thing right now; it sounded like it wasn’t… 

“So you’re at the Starbucks on what street?  Give me some more detail so I can make it to you.  Which hotel are you staying at; is it a Holiday Inn?”

“Yeah.”

“North or South of the venue?”

Kaz tried to orientate himself in his head.  “It’s…”  Shit, what was even happening here?  “What do you mean about Adam?”

“Listen, he is messing with your mind so that you don’t remember why you’re there with him.  You joined Bullet Club to help me get the title off him.  You’re still _my_ partner, Frankie.  I really need you to remember that now.”  Daniels’s voice was cracking a little as he spoke, and that connected with the vague shimmer of thoughts Kaz was chasing in the back of his mind even more.  Yeah, they were supposed to be partners.   

“You were cheating on me.”

“No.”

“With Styles.”

Daniels made a strangled sound in his throat.  “Is that what Cole told you?  It’s not true.  AJ’s trying to help me, _us_.” 

Kaz had joined the queue for the counter, because that seemed the least conspicuous thing to do, and he felt in his pocket for his wallet.  “Adam’s been helping me; he arranged for me to get a shot at the TV Title.” 

“Frankie, do you still have the pain in your chest?  If you’re feeling that, it’s because Bullet Club takes your _heart_ in return for what it gives you.  Piece by piece, all the fame, all the money, all the victories, all the little conveniences, the little buffs to your senses, your capabilities, the respect you get…  AJ says you pay for it with your heart.  And you can’t fucking do that, Kaz, because your heart is already taken: it belongs to me and I won’t let them have it!  Do you understand me?”

Kaz stopped in his tracks, letting his wallet drop to hang on its beltloop chain as he fumbled to hold the phone closer to his ear.  He understood the words, but absolutely not how they were supposed to make sense.  And Daniels had never sounded so serious or so frantic in all the years Kaz had known him – in all the years they had been together.  “Chris—”     

“Sir, may I have your order?”  The barista was trying to get his attention. 

“Sorry, hold on,” he tried to wave her off for a second.

“Frankie, don’t stall the queue like that.”  And there was Adam’s voice.  And Adam’s arm slipping around Kaz’s shoulders and plucking the phone away from his hand.  “Hang up your phone when you get to the counter.  I’m sorry for my friend, miss.”

The barista smiled gratefully at Adam, and Kaz could tell exactly what kind of look he was giving her: the grin, the wink, those bright clean teeth…  He shivered and wondered if Adam felt it.

“Tell the lady what you want,” Adam prompted.

 _I want the fuck out of here_ , Kaz told himself.  _I want Chris to walk in here right fucking now._   He cleared his throat and caught hold of his wallet again.  “I want a tall latte, please – French vanilla flavour.”

 

*** 

 

Backstage at the pay-per-view, Kaz had an uncanny sense of deja-vu as he stood near the curtain and watched the small monitor relaying the stream that was going out live.  The joy he’d felt at winning number one contender for the Television Championship had dissipated quickly, leaving a sharp and burning pinch in his chest that he wished he could just write off as having taken Punishment’s hard chops, or Sabin’s nasty kicks.  He didn’t have time to focus on himself now, though; the match between Adam and Daniels was underway, and Kaz’s attention was glued to the screen.

The blood pouring from Daniels’s brow was bright like a flare, and Kaz couldn’t keep his eyes off it as he tried to judge how much of the crimson mask was sweat and how much was real plasma.  How much strength would Daniels be losing?  How much was his vision obscured?  Adam was clever - or lucky - to have opened the cut so wide, and he was clearly revelling in the damage he had wrought, smearing and painting his own chest with the blood as though the life it took from Daniels could soak in and shore up his vitality.  There was something primal about it, or grotesque… or maybe the chanting crowd were right and Adam was just plain sick.

Kaz watched him deal kick after kick to Daniels’s forehead, feeling the impact of each of them jolt through his own limbs like a phantom sense.  He wondered if the other members of Bullet Club could feel it too; if the heightened awareness they possessed was strong enough for everyone to taste the sharp tang of copper in the back of their throat, and share in the spiralling high so clearly written on Adam’s face as he taunted his struggling opponent.  Kaz was beginning to feel nauseous with it, the ache in his chest coupling with the churn in his stomach to make it feel he was experiencing the worst case of nerves he’d ever had – a case of nerves like the outcome of this match mattered more to him than anything else in his entire life.

He could tell that Daniels was trying everything he could to get back into the fight, holding on to his opportunity to get the title like _his_ life depended on it, and Kaz could recognise so many little accents and patterns to his movements that signalled what he was thinking and what he was about to do.  The familiarity they’d developed from years and years in the ring together was like a secret language that Kaz knew he’d be able to read even without the enhanced perceptions that had come with his new factional ties, and the fact that Adam was probably reading the exact same things armed with his Bullet Club cheat sheet alone was a stark reminder of the disparity between their ethos and the code of honor.  Seeing Adam low-blow Daniels when the ref was down only made it starker.

 _And that’s what you signed on for, Kazarian_ , he thought darkly.  _That’s how you traded ‘up’._  

Kaz yanked the curtain back and was sprinting towards the ring almost before he was aware of what he was doing.  This was the moment.  This was when Adam had to make sure he would win the match.  The crowd yelled when they saw him – jeers and whoops in equal measure – but Kaz only had eyes for the men in the fight, laser-focussed on the outcome that needed to happen.  Adam had grabbed the title belt from Cary Silkin, and Kaz pulled Daniels to his feet to get him into the ring; he was heavy in his grip, bloody and heaving, and when Kaz dragged his arms back to hold him in place, Adam’s grin was wide like a demon’s maw. 

 _Don’t fuck this up_ , Kaz willed.  _Do what you need to do_.  He couldn’t let himself think of anything besides that, and he was squeezing Chris’s arms so hard that he could feel both their pulses pumping under the skin.  _Three, two…_

Chris made the breakout as soon as he loosened his grip, and Kaz jumped back to avoid taking the belt shot to the face.  Adam growled in frustration, but when Kaz indicated the he wanted to do the shot instead, the sick grin returned tenfold.  “Come on, come on, give it to me!”  Kaz snatched the title from Adam’s hands and darted to take a run up for momentum.  _And by the way…_ _fuck you!_   he screamed internally as he hurled the belt to the ramp and tore through the Bullet Club skull on his chest to reveal the ankh underneath.  “Fuck you, Adam Cole.  Fuck Bullet Club.  Fuck your mind games.  We win!”

Cole’s face twisted into disbelief and fear as soon as he realised what was happening, and it was such a beautiful contrast to the expression of gratitude and relief on Chris’s face behind him that Kaz knew he wouldn’t ever forget the real character of either of those men again.  How could he ever have fallen prey to Cole’s manipulation and doubted all the trust and faith and strength bound up in his relationship with Chris?  How could destiny so nearly have been lost?

Kaz's chest throbbed agonisingly like his heart was trying to seize, and he had to hope that Chris had enough left in the tank to finish this now.  Jumping out of the ring, Kaz nearly dropped to his knees, but he channelled all his energy into urging Chris on and blocking the ramp in case any of Bullet Club were in a strong enough state to run in on them.  He was certain Adam would be screaming for them if he could, except that Chris had already slammed him to the mat and was leaping to the top rope for the Best Moonsault Ever.  One, two, three times, Chris hit it.  Then came the one, two, three for the pin, and it was over.   _Oh god_ , Chris was the World Champion at last!

Kaz shouted himself hoarse cheering, emotion spilling out of him at the sight of Chris with the belts, and when they embraced it was all he could do to stay steady and focus on the moment – everything they’d been working for!  It was worth it; so worth it.  

And as Adam slinked away towards the back to lick his wounds, Kaz didn’t even return his glare, meeting his gaze stone-faced and impassive instead.  _You thought you had me?  Well then, listen to this: you can burn your heart to a cinder chasing money and fame; you can all rot at the core and we’ll see where you are in twenty-five years, because I’m willing to wager right now that it won’t be here._   Kaz indicated the ring, where Chris was kneeling with the championship in his lap.  Adam’s expression had slipped to blankness, like he wasn’t hearing and couldn’t read him, and despite how much Kaz would have liked him to pick up those sentiments, he felt nothing but relief about that.

 

***

 

“I thought I’d lost you.  I thought Bullet Club had turned you and that was that: the end of us,” Chris murmured.  He was lying with his head on Kaz’s shoulder, balanced carefully to avoid aggravating the angry cut on his right brow, and Kaz didn’t care one jot that his arm was going slowly numb from being in one position for so long, because there was no way he wanted to move right now.

The room was dim and quiet, and if it wasn’t for it being a different hotel chain with a slightly different furniture layout, they could almost have kidded themselves into thinking the last month hadn’t happened and they were still in that room back in Pittsburgh, the night before everything really started going to hell.  Maybe the shiny gold belt lying propped up on the desk would have given it away, though.

“But we’re still together, and just look at what you’ve got,” Kaz replied.

“ _We_ got it.  I’m glad you were part of the match.”

“Although I bet there was a point when you thought you were going to have to win the championship in spite of me rather than with my help.”

Chris nodded minutely.  “I didn’t know if you were going to let me break out of your arms when he was coming for me with the belt, then I felt you squeeze me and I could tell that you were back.”

“I couldn’t put two-and-two together for so long.  I’m sorry.”

“Don’t fucking apologise for that,” Chris admonished him.  “Cole made sure he had you caught up in his mind games.  He had me, too; I should have called the whole thing off after that first meeting when you were so out of it.  I _wanted_ it to be okay – I wanted to go ahead with it and I sent you right into his hands again.  It would be on me if you went ‘Bullet Club for life’.”

“No chance,” Kaz said firmly.  “It’s Bullet Club _for_ life, and that is not worth any of the perks or the creepy powers they get in return.  Bone soldiers with their hearts half-blackened...”  He shuddered and his hand found the tender spot above his breastbone and rubbed it absently.  The ache had diminished considerably since he’d renounced his allegiance with the faction, and he was hoping that meant whatever the hell had got its claws into his heart had retracted them now. 

Chris reached out and added his hand on top, and Kaz bit his lip as his chest flooded with tenderness of a different kind.

They were silent for a while, Kaz just listening to them both breathe, until Chris suddenly said, “ROH World Champion,” like he was testing out the title on his tongue.  “ROH Champion of the World.”

Kaz chuckled.  “It sounds good.  How about ‘ROH World Champion of the World’?  That’s even better.”

“Yeah.  Perfect.”  Kaz could hear the smile in his voice.  “Frankie…” Chris began and trailed off, apparently trying to think of how best to say something, before settling for a simple, “Thank you.”

Kaz was acutely aware of the slow spread of warmth and contentment that accompanied those words, radiating through his chest under their hands and replacing the last vestiges of that hollow ache completely.  “Hey, I’d do it a thousand times,” he whispered in reply.  “Because _you_ are my ‘for life’.”

 

 _-end_.


End file.
